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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27029305">11. Accessories</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG/pseuds/TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG'>TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Twinkstober 2020 [11]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Clothing Kink, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gentle Sex, Gentleness, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Abandonment Issues, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Self-Esteem Issues, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has a Praise Kink, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, M/M, Oral Sex, POV Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Praise Kink, Soft Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:21:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,896</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27029305</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG/pseuds/TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Twinkstober 2020<br/>Prompt: accessories</p><p>Jaskier sees right through him, and Geralt lets himself be seen.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Twinkstober 2020 [11]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1923553</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>364</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>11. Accessories</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The softest boys.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Do you trust me, my love?" </p><p>Jaskier is looking at him with such a sincere expression that he bites down on the scoff that is the first reaction to that question. "Of course," he says instead, and Jaskier smiles.</p><p>"I've... noticed something. About you." He takes Geralt's hand and tugs it towards him gently. Towards the lacy collar of his chemise, and Geralt stiffens.</p><p><em>Fuck</em>.</p><p>Jaskier gently presses his hand against the fabric, holding it there, and Geralt looks away. "I've noticed that you... like my lace, and my silks." There's a hand on Geralt's jaw, turning his face back so he has to meet Jaskier's blue eyes. His bard is looking at him so earnestly, so sincerely, and Geralt looks down at their hands. "And I've been thinking. I know it's... not practical or prudent or whatever, but regardless - I've been thinking." His fingers tighten slightly around Geralt's hand, and the Witcher hardly dares breathe. "Would you like some of your own?"</p><p>Again, Geralt's first instinct is to scoff and turn away. He's a Witcher, out on the Path, he has no need for frivolities like that, and money is better spent on gear and food. Bathing and the occasional brothel are all the indulgences he allows himself.</p><p>Or rather used to. Before Jaskier.</p><p>Because so much has changed since Jaskier came into his life, so many things that Vesemir would frown at and disapprove of. More nights sleeping in an actual bed, for one, and of course the bard had slowly broken down all of his painstakingly built up defences, until they really only needed one bed, even if two were available. </p><p>And so what if he has spent quite some time touching Jaskier through his silky shirts, fucking him with his nose buried against his throat and those lace collars? That's nobody's business but his own.</p><p>Except apparently <em>Jaskier</em> has noticed, and has drawn his own conclusions. Which happen to be true.</p><p>"I... Hm," he says, and Jaskier pulls his hand up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.</p><p>"I'd like to give you a present," he says quietly, and something hot flares to life in Geralt's chest as he stares back at him. "Would that be alright with you, darling?"</p><p>Part of him fears this present. He knows where this is leading, and it's <em>unbecoming</em> for a Witcher to want this.</p><p>But who is going to know?</p><p>"Please," he croaks, and Jaskier's face lights up like a Yule tree. The bard kisses his knuckles again, then hops to his feet. Geralt shifts a little uneasily.</p><p>"I saw this in a rather raunchy little shop the last time I was in Vizima and just had to buy it. If it turns out you don't like it, I could just wear it myself," Jaskier says, and Geralt calms a little at the realisation that the bard is just as nervous as he feels. He only babbles like this with Geralt when he's truly nervous. "The seamstress wanted to talk me out of it, 'black <em>really</em> isn't your colour, master troubadour', and she was right but it's not for <em>me</em> to wear, is it," and he's pulling something out of his pack, shaking it a little to get the wrinkles out.</p><p>Geralt's mouth goes very dry.</p><p>It's a shirt, one in the style seen more in the very south on the nobility in the height of summer, without sleeves. It's black silk, but not the shiny kind that Jaskier prefers. It looks duller, more... robust, but just as soft from the looks of it. There's no collar, just a wide strip of lace around the neck, lace so delicate it is almost see through.</p><p>Jaskier holds it up, biting his lip. "Would you let me put it on you?"</p><p>Geralt can only nod.</p><p>The bard comes back to stand by the bed and carefully lays the shirt down on it, next to Geralt. The Witcher can't keep his eyes off it. It's... <em>pretty</em>, and a part of him recoils at the sight. Pretty and Witcher mix about as well as water and oil, and he has no need for something <em>pretty</em>.</p><p>Jaskier strokes lute-calloused fingers over his jaw, and Geralt flinches. "You can touch it, you know? It's not going to bite you."</p><p>Geralt realises that his hands are balled into fists in his lap, as if to stop himself from reaching out, but at Jaskier's permission, he does, he reaches out and tentatively slides his fingers over the fabric.</p><p><em>Oh</em>.</p><p>"So soft, isn't it?" Jaskier steps closer, stands between his knees. Geralt leans forward and rests his forehead against the bard's stomach, and Jaskier strokes gentle fingers through his hair. "Lift your arms for me, love," he says, and Geralt obeys without thinking. Jaskier makes a pleased noise and pulls Geralt's linen shirt over his head. He tosses it to the side and leans in, coaxes Geralt's head up so he can kiss him. "You're so beautiful," he says against his lips, hands gliding over Geralt's back and arms. "I want to dress you up in silks and jewels, my darling, weave flowers and ribbons into your hair." </p><p>Geralt shudders at the image, his eyes slipping closed. It's decadent, superfluous, and he wants it with an intensity that should make him sick. Instead, he leans into Jaskier's touch, eyes closed, and lets himself be stroked and petted, as though he were something precious, lets Jaskier guide his body into the shirt.</p><p>He has worn silk before, of course. Going to courts requires some mummery from time to time, including dressing up in fine clothing. It has never felt even <em>remotely</em> like this.</p><p>The silk feels like a caress against his skin, flowing over his chest and back like water. Jaskier strokes a hand over his pectorals, guiding the fabric into place, and Geralt moans quietly as it brushes over his nipples. It's almost too much, and it's <em>exquisite</em>.</p><p>The lace should itch, he thinks, fussy as it is, but he can tell it's also of the highest quality. It rests softly against his collarbone, and he reaches up and touches the edge of it, presses it against his skin. It feels... <em>good</em>.</p><p>Jaskier takes a few steps back and looks at him, hands clasped in front of his chest. The expression on his face is unbridled adoration, and Geralt squirms. "Oh sweet goddess, I wish you could see yourself," he says, and his voice trembles a little. Geralt can see the hard line of his cock beneath Jaskier's breeches, and more than anything else, the sight does something to him.</p><p>He's sitting in front of Jaskier in what some people might consider degrading, at the very least ridiculous, and Jaskier <em>wants</em> him. He looks at Geralt in silk and lace and it stokes his  desire, and the knowledge makes Geralt feel a little lightheaded.</p><p>"Jaskier," he croaks, and the bard is by his side in a blink. Geralt tilts his head and Jaskier leans in with a happy little trill, and then he's kissing him passionately. His hands are everywhere it seems, running over his bare arms, through his hair, over his silk-covered chest, and Geralt tugs him into his lap. Jaskier goes with a sweet moan, his cock rubbing against Geralt's stomach.</p><p>"<em>Gods</em>, Geralt," he gasps, and Geralt takes hold of his hips and guides him, gently, to rock against him. Jaskier whimpers. "Do you want to fuck me, love," he asks, and Geralt leans in and kisses his throat.</p><p>"Want you to ride me," he rasps, fingers digging into Jaskier's hips.</p><p>Jaskier moans and says, "With pleasure," and his fingers are back in Geralt's hair, his mouth on his, and he's so gentle with Geralt that the Witcher could weep. "I thank the gods every single day," he says between kisses, "that they led me to that dumb little tavern in Posada."</p><p>Geralt winces ever so slightly. "I never apologised for punching you," he murmurs, and Jaskier chuckles.</p><p>"Oh, maybe not in as many words, dear heart." His kisses the tip of Geralt's nose, sending warmth through his whole body. "Lie back for me."</p><p>Jaskier pulls his trousers off, his socks and braies, leaves him in just his silk shirt. Then he strips off his own clothes with quick efficiency and climbs back onto Geralt's lap, kissing him slow and deep.</p><p>"If I should ever stop needing you like this, like you were air, darling Witcher," he sighs against Geralt's lips, "you have my express permission to take me back to Lettenhove and dump me on my parents' doorstep, for I will <em>undoubtedly</em> have taken leave of my senses."</p><p>Whenever Jaskier says things like this, something curls up in Geralt's chest, something dark that snarls and snaps. A childhood in Kaer Morhen made sure that all personal desires were soundly beaten out of him, and decades on the Path where he was called monster and abomination by everyone he met taught him that no one would ever love him, not even those who debased themselves by sharing his bed. </p><p>The first time Jaskier called him 'my love', Geralt had actually felt physically ill, the phrase so foreign to his ears that he immedately suspected a lie, a dark purpose behind the bard's honeyed words. They had slept together often by that point, and Geralt considered him a friend (and some part of him even admitted to feeling more than just friendship), but <em>love</em>? That had been an entirely foreign concept to him, so Jaskier <em>had</em> to be duplicitous in some way.</p><p>Except the bard had smelled so sincere, no hint of a lie, and slowly Geralt had trained himself to accept the words for what they are.</p><p>Still. "Why do you keep saying these things," he asks, and Jaskier sits up, frowning slightly.</p><p>"Which things?"</p><p>"How... how much you want me." He swallows drily. "Love me."</p><p>Jaskier's frown softens, and he strokes his cheek softly. "Because I know you still don't quite believe me, darling. And so I'll keep telling you, how beautiful and kind and lovely and frankly <em>unbelievably</em> sexy you are, even if you can be a grumpy asshole and I sometimes suspect that you love Roach more than me."</p><p>Geralt can't stop the little smile that accusation provokes, and Jaskier grins.</p><p>"I love you, Geralt of Rivia, and you're not getting rid of me," he says, and Geralt closes his eyes and breathes.</p><p>"I love you," he says after a while, a quiet murmur, and Jaskier leans down and goes back to kissing him. Geralt lets himself sink into it, lets Jaskier do as he pleases. The bard is still hard between them, and Geralt's body responds in kind as Jaskier wriggles atop him, and soon he's panting softly.</p><p>"Let me get the oil," he breathes, and Geralt releases him, reluctantly. The bard is back in a flash, the small bottle already unstoppered, and he moves back to straddle Geralt once more. Their cocks slide against each other, and Geralt grips Jaskier's hips again. </p><p>"Jaskier," he groans, and the bard makes a soothing noise.</p><p>"Ssh, my darling, let me take care of you." He rocks against Geralt a few times, kisses him ever so softly, then slides down his body, peppering kisses all along the way. Geralt arches off the bed when Jaskier laves a nipple with his tongue through the shirt, sucks in air through his teeth.</p><p>"<em>Fuck</em>," he groans, and Jaskier hums against his skin.</p><p>"You're so responsive, I love that so much," he murmurs, slides his hands along Geralt's flanks. "How do you like your present?"</p><p>"<em>Hmm</em>," is all Geralt can answer, at least vocally. His body does all the talking for him.</p><p>Jaskier smiles up at him, happiness radiating off of him. Then he continues his downward journey, still kissing every part of Geralt he can reach. Finally Geralt can feel his breath against his cock, and he shudders. Jaskier takes his time once more, closing slick fingers around it and stroking him ever so slowly for a long moment, before he laps at the head, collecting the precome there. Geralt fists his hands into the sheets, and Jaskier chuckles happily before finally taking him into his mouth.</p><p>Geralt has led a long life, and he has had sex plenty of times, both with whores and occasionally willing partners he didn't have to pay, but none have ever been as focused on his pleasure as Jaskier is, every single time. The way he sucks cock is a revelation, with single minded focus that makes Geralt's toes curl.</p><p>He knows Jaskier's other hand is busy, curled between his legs preparing himself, and the image combined with the hot, slick pressure of Jaskier's mouth is almost enough to undo him already. He gasps out Jaskier's name, hand going into the bard's hair, and Jaskier hums and pulls off slowly.</p><p>"So sensitive today, hm? Alright, love, just a moment."</p><p>Geralt just breathes for a long moment, eyes closed against the onslaught of sensations, as he listens to Jaskier's little gasps as he finishes preparing himself.</p><p>"Ready, dear heart?" Geralt just nods, and Jaskier hums. "Alright," and then he climbs into Geralt's lap again and takes hold of his cock, lining him up. When he sinks down, Geralt takes hold of his hips, and Jaskier moans sweetly. "<em>Fuck</em>, Geralt," he gasps, digs his fingers into his shirt. He's trembling, all over, as he takes Geralt to the root.</p><p>Jaskier takes his time, setting a languid rhythm, and Geralt pries open his eyes to watch him. He's flushed and oh so pretty, lips parted and eyes closed, and Geralt is once more struck by just how much he loves the bard. Sure, he's loud and annoying and habitually sticks his nose where it has no business being, but he loves so fiercely and completely, and Geralt knows he never stood a chance once Jaskier set his sights on him.</p><p>Letting his guard down can be fatal for a Witcher, and he doesn't miss the days when he had to be attuned to everything around him all the time. Now he can let himself fully sink into the sensations provided by Jaskier, knowing there's a locked door between them and the outside. It's calming, and he floats inside that calm. It's the biggest gift Jaskier has bestowed upon him.</p><p>Jaskier rides him slowly, unhurriedly, like they have all the time in the world. Every once in a while, he'll praise Geralt's looks, his kindness, his selflessness, his goodness, and it makes Geralt squirm in his skin. It's too much, and at the same time he can't get enough of it.</p><p>Finally, he can tell Jaskier wants to go faster, that he's impatient to fuck himself harder on Geralt's cock, if the trembling in his thighs is anything to go by, but he keeps his pace, slow and steady, gentle. It's driving Geralt insane.</p><p>"You can go faster," he groans, and Jaskier smiles.</p><p>"Do you <em>want</em> me to go faster?"</p><p>"Fuck, Jaskier, I..." The bard gives him a look, and he groans, squeezes his eyes shut. "<em>No</em>."</p><p>Jaskier hums and leans down, kisses his jaw, his cheek. "Thank you," he breathes, "for telling me what you want, not just going along with what you think I want." Briefly, he tightens around Geralt, and then he says, "You're always so good for me, darling. <em>Such</em> a good boy."</p><p>Geralt's eyes fly open as heat shoots through him.</p><p>
  <em>Good boy.</em>
</p><p>"<em>Jaskier</em>," and fuck, his voice trembles, as does the rest of him.</p><p>The bard shushes him, keeps pressing sweet kisses to his face, and every touch, every slow roll of his hips, every touch, brings Geralt closer to the brink. The air is thick with their combined arousal, ringing with the gasps and moans falling from their lips, with the constant stream of praise from Jaskier, and finally, Geralt can't hold on any longer.</p><p>"Jask, I can't-"</p><p>In response, Jaskier kisses him, hard and deep, licking into his mouth and sucking on his tongue, and Geralt digs his fingers into his hips. "Go on, love," Jaskier gasps as he sits up again, grinding down on Geralt's cock, and Geralt locks eyes with him. Jaskier is flushed and sweaty, eyes shining with lust, and the thought that that is all for him, that he causes this reaction in the bard, makes his balls tighten. Jaskier smiles and coos, "<em>Such</em> a darling, such a <em>good boy</em>," and Geralt arches off the bed and comes, deep inside Jaskier, fingers on his thighs digging in hard enough to bruise.</p><p>Jaskier groans and reaches for his own cock with another gasp of, "Geralt, so good, <em>so good</em>," and a few moments later, Geralt feels the hot splatter of his seed seep through the silk on his stomach and chest.</p><p>The bard collapses next to him, gasping for breath, a dopey smile on his face. "Gods, I love you," he says, scooting over until he's plastered to Geralt's side, "so much."</p><p>Geralt winds an arm around him and kisses his forehead. "Love you," he murmurs, and Jaskier hums. Then he pokes Geralt's side.</p><p>"Ugh, we need to wash this, I'm afraid, or these stains will <em>never</em> come out, and that would quite frankly be a tragedy."</p><p>And Geralt, who knows very little about fashion, has to agree. Wholeheartedly.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Did I basically put Geralt in a silk camisole? Yes, yes, I did.</p><p>I also finally got around to making <a href="https://twitter.com/formerly_as_g?s=09">a NSFW Twitter</a> so if you want, come and yell at me there.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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